SEAL Forever (2 page)

Wrapping a towel around his waist to cover his nakedness before he stepped outside—heaven forbid he shock his neighbor—Declan walked out onto the balcony to bring in his beer cooler before it filled with water from the incoming storm.

He'd long since lost the top and he didn't want it to overflow and flood the balcony. If his neighbor's apartment got even a drop of water from something he did, she might be the type to complain. The woman was an enigma to him. He'd been as friendly as he knew how, and still she had barely said a word to him.

As he picked up the battered cooler, something on the horizon caught his attention. He put the plastic down and walked to the railing. Was that some fool out on the water? Did that person know what he or she was in for?

He went back inside, located his binoculars, and hurried back to the railing. Zeroing in on the form, he could barely believe his eyes. It was his neighbor. Maura Maxwell. Her paddle was heading for Mexico, her board was on its way to Japan with a possible stop-off in Hawaii, and she was holding on to a buoy that wasn't meant as a flotation device.

“Crap.”

Pulling off his towel, he grabbed a pair of swim trunks from the drying line by his balcony door and slid into them in record speed. He hopped the railing, landing with a roll on the sand, and ran at top speed toward the ocean.

His feet splashed into the foamy surf as he ran. Diving into the first high wave, he headed for the buoy. Adrenaline surged through his body, drowning out the grousing of his aching limbs. His arms dug into the water as he dove under a high, white-peaked wave and avoided the trap of the rolling undertow. Surfacing, he continued his quest, skirting the sand dune and finally reaching his quarry: a very waterlogged and frightened Maura Maxwell.

The big question was, would she follow his instructions or did he have to knock her out? Lightning crashed above as the storm kicked it up a notch.

Well, she'd better listen, or he wasn't going to be responsible for giving her an aching jaw.

He swam closer to her. “Maura?”

She peered at him warily. “D-D-Declan?”

She looked like a cold, wet cat, and he hoped she didn't scratch. “I'm going to reach for you. When I do, you need to let go and not fight me. Do you understand?”

She nodded her head.

He put out his arm. The woman grabbed it and pulled herself to him, wrapping her arms around his neck tightly, choking him. At this rate, she was so panicked, she was going to sink them both if she didn't listen.

Pushing her away from him, he held her at arm's length. “Don't grab me. Let me hold you. If you need to, wrap yourself around one arm, and nothing else. Got it?”

His message appeared to penetrate her brain, because she let him maneuver her into position: belly up, her back to him.

As he secured her against him, he kicked out with a sidestroke—best way to bring her in, given the circumstances. Quite frankly, though, he knew he was probably going to regret not knocking her out. The ride to shore had the potential to be rocky.

As waves pummeled them, he could feel her claws sinking into his skin. He didn't change his hold or his pace. It was slow going, but it would be successful. He'd done this particular drill at least a hundred times before.

Ouch!
Did she just bite his arm? Her movements were growing frantic.

He paused, treading water. “Calm down,” he ordered.

She stilled against him.

With his lips next to her ear, he said, “We're almost at the sandbar. You need to relax.”

He felt her nod. That was his cue to keep moving. Slow and steady, he pulled her through the strong currents and toward the shore.

As his feet slid over the sandbar, a wave lifted them high enough that he could see the beach clearly. The tide was coming in quickly.

Rain continued to fall and its steady rhythm helped wash the sea salt from his eyes. Catching sight of another large wave, one that would be big enough to bodysurf to shore, he pulled her onto his body and spun them around.

The wave lifted them and carried them toward shore. Declan landed on his feet first, picking up Maura and carrying her up onto the bank. He didn't stop there, walking across the beach and taking her up the wall in a fireman's carry…not stopping until they were both on the balcony.

The rain had slowed to a light sprinkle by then. Her eyes looked like a doe's as he gazed into them. “Are you okay?”

She clung to him, shaking, not speaking.

“You need to talk to me, or I'm going to take matters into my own hands.”

Her teeth chattered, and though it looked like she was attempting to nod that all was well, he wasn't buying into it. Picking her up again, he opened her balcony door, took her inside, closed it, and walked through to where he thought her bathroom should be. It was a safe bet, since it was likely that their apartments would be mirror images of each other.

Putting the stopper in place, he flipped on the bathwater and turned to face her.

The woman was as white as a sheet. Turning her around, he unzipped her wet suit. He noticed some nasty scars on her back, but he didn't utter a word of question. He pushed the neoprene off one shoulder and then off the other. Working the suit down over her hips, he managed to snag the bottom of it with his foot and lift her up and out.

Lowering her into the tub, he didn't let go until she was safely covered in the warm water. Huh, she had scars on her arms too. Whatever she'd been through, it must have been painful. It also didn't keep him from noticing how captivating she was.

His eyes stopped traveling up and down and locked firmly to hers. That green gaze of hers drew him in, inviting him to glimpse into her soul. The openness was intoxicating.

When she licked her luscious lips, his eyes moved down, and for a brief second, he forgot that she was his enigmatic neighbor and thought only of kissing her. A woman. Naked. In a bathtub full of warm, inviting water.

Her hand shot out, making contact with his chest. Instead of pushing him away, her fingertips traced over the muscles.

He cleared his throat. “Maura…”

She looked at him like a woman who knew exactly what she wanted from a man. Again, she touched her tongue to those pink lips, and then said, “Thank you, Declan.”

His name. He didn't ever remember her saying his name under normal circumstances, and he liked the way it sounded coming from her mouth.

Leaning down, he kissed her. Tenderly. Just a taste.

Salt, and a hint of her, filled his senses as the kiss deepened. Her tongue boldly sought his as he welcomed her into his mouth. Hunger ate at him—hers and his. The kiss drew him deeper into her.

Her hands were holding his head, fingers entwined in his hair, and her openness to him was glorious. He wanted her, wanted to pillage and plunder all of that sweetness to his heart's content.

With her head cradled in his hands, he pulled back. He couldn't do it. He wouldn't take from her when she had just gone through something so horrific.

She stared at him. Her green eyes taunted him, burning away his will.

“I…” He let go of her head and drew farther away. “If you're warmed up, we need to get you out of there before the bathwater gets cold.” As he stood, his gaze shifted. There she was, in all her glory. Maura Maxwell naked was nothing like he'd imagined she'd be. Her breasts were ripe—just enough to fill his mouth and hands—and her body was trim and tight, with legs that went on forever. His fingers curled into fists. He was just going to have to get a grip.

The water sloshed to the side as she sat up in the tub. She pulled the elastic from her hair, making the strands spread out like a halo. She didn't make a move to cover herself. Instead she looked up at him unashamedly. “Thank you for rescuing me.”

He nodded, not trusting his vocal cords. The sounds might come out as a jumble of noises, and then he'd lose his chivalrous focus for sure and crawl into the tub with her.

There was a confidence and beauty about her that drew him. His eyes followed the tiny drops of water as they ran down the valley between her breasts. He held out a towel for her, and she stepped out of the tub and into his embrace. He dried her off briskly, then pulled another bath sheet off the rack and wrapped it around her. She leaned into him and he took her weight without a sound, wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin on the top of her wet hair.

“I didn't realize there was a storm.”

“I saw the signs of it. The storm came in fast.”

“It did.” The chagrin in her voice was obvious.

“C'mon, let's get a blanket to wrap you in. And some warm socks. You need something to warm you up from the inside too. Whiskey? Or brandy?”

“How about a cognac?” Those green eyes were lit with a blazingly brilliant fire, and the balls of her cheeks were flushed with red. Amazing that she could be so pretty when she had just almost been killed.

Declan didn't say anything. He hustled out of the bathroom, through her living room, and out her balcony door, leaving temptation behind. She could get her own cognac. Maura was the kind of woman who could make a guy linger and never leave.

He took in a long, slow breath. His life didn't lend itself to entanglements, not of the female kind. It was easier to keep relationships at arm's length. Have fun. Satisfy needs. And then move on. Being a SEAL was unpredictable, and he'd seen too many guys seek normality with ladies, only to have it come crashing down around their ears.

Closing the glass, he exhaled. Gazing into her apartment from the other side of the divider gave him an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach, like this was something that could be good. He didn't know why. He barely knew this woman. She was the quiet lady who lived next door and barely said a word to him. Christ, what was he thinking! Move on.

Scratching his head, he gave up his mental meanderings and entered his apartment, closing his own sliding glass door, blocking her out further. Outside, the storm had calmed, moving out to sea, and a quiet lull was coming to the area in stages of silence as everything settled for the night. Soon the stars would be visible in all of their glory, and he could walk the beach, enjoying it.

A knock at the front door reminded him that he had made other plans for the evening. “Oh, shit! I forgot about Sali.”

It was a convenient on-again, off-again relationship that he'd had for years. When they were both between relationships, they tended to hook up. No strings, just a mutual satisfying of needs. Right now, all he wanted was to put his adrenaline rush to some good use.

Striding across the room, he opened the door to greet Sali Jensen, a petite blond with golden skin and bright blue eyes.

* * *

After Sali left the next morning, Declan lay in bed, and it was painfully clear that the woman he wanted to see again was…Maura. He had been unable to stop thinking about her all night long. His mind had played through images: holding Maura close to him as he swam, carrying her, pulling off her wet suit, and placing her into the tub of warm water. And that kiss… His body got hard thinking about it.

He rubbed his hands over his eyes. What the hell!

Declan gave up on the logic of it all and got up to face the music. Grabbing a pair of jeans as he went, he stepped into them and buttoned the top button.

At least the girl next door seemed to like sports. He'd counted two surfboards, well-used Rollerblades, and a mountain bike over there. Usually he did those things with a Teammate, but it could be more satisfying to explore those interests with a female companion.

Damn, too much pondering! He was like a wind-up doll—tons of energy and nowhere to go with it. A good hard run—by himself—might get his head back on track, he thought.

Walking over to the window, he stared out at the gorgeous day. He could see early-morning joggers out doing their thing. Why not?

Checking the clock on the wall, he saw that he had two hours before he needed to be on the Amphibious Base. So he switched his jeans for running shorts and beach runner shoes—the kind with toes—and then headed out the balcony door. Stretching his muscles, he limbered up and then descended the wall. The water had made the sand a bit firmer, and it was easier to walk as he made his way down to the edge of the lapping waves. That was the ideal spot for a swift run.

Breathing in the fresh sea air, he took off at a good pace. It wasn't long before he felt an itch at the center of his back, like someone was watching him. As he glanced over his shoulder, he saw her. Maura.

She smiled and then zipped past him. “Morning.”

He revved up his speed and joined her. “Good morning. You look well.”

“I am. How are you? Did you have a good night?”

His eyebrows drew in. “Ah…sure.”

“Declan.” She peered up at him. When she put her hand on his arm, he looked at her.

She tugged him to a halt, urging him to come sit next to her on the rocks near the pier. They'd run a long way and he had barely noticed the distance. Regardless, he allowed her to lead him.

“I'm not going to be shy. I promised myself out there, on the water. What you did last night was…miraculous! Thank you.” She batted those sultry eyes at him.

He shook his head and sighed. “You were on my mind several times last night.”

She grinned at him. “Can I take you to dinner tonight?”

The question piqued his mischievous streak. He'd be willing to have a lovely lady take him out. That was worth pursuing.

“Where?” He was pleased and oddly nervous at the same time. After all, a woman who went out in a storm didn't necessarily show the best sense. Best, hell. And yet she was…in her own way…compelling.

“It's a surprise. Meet you at seven?”

“How about five? I'll be hungry.”

“Perfect!” she exclaimed. “I'm going to blow your socks off.”

He stood.
God, I hope she isn't being literal. Then again…